In my 20 years in education, with more than half of that time in leadership positions, I can’t recall having taken one class on how to see and work with the adults in our school buildings as people. It’s time to change that.

In undergrad, I learned how to write lesson plans, completed two semesters of a practicum, and studied theories for why students in poor/middle-class communities didn’t matriculate to college. (Some of those reasons applied to me and were the very reasons I felt obligated to return to my community as proof of what was possible.) I went on to get my Masters in Educational Leadership, where we learned about Professional Learning Communities (PLCs), how to assess teachers, work school budgets and stay in the clear legally.

In my 20 years in education, with more than half of that time in leadership positions, I can’t recall having taken one class on how to see and work with the adults in our school buildings as people.

So it should come as no surprise that when I became an administrator, the people part of the job felt the hardest.

In some way, teachers are often regarded as a vehicle, a means to an end. But here’s the problem with that: teachers are people, APs are people, school leaders are people. And in the absence of seeing and treating them as such, they do what unseen, unheard, unvalued people do–they armor up. Operating out of fear and self-preservation, they put on armor to ward off the feeling that they are expendable. They cling to what’s tried and true because if they take on something new and fail, they’ll most assuredly lose. As a result, they resist any effort that might put them at risk of being rendered obsolete. This often comes at the expense of their own effectiveness and our children’s learning. What looks like school politics is actually adults saying we don’t feel seen, safe, or valued here.

What looks like school politics is actually adults saying we don’t feel seen, safe or valued here.

When principals spend more time navigating the “politics” of their school, it’s because they haven’t addressed the fears and feelings of the adults in the building. The reality is that innovation and progress can’t coexist where people are armored up–no matter how often you surprise them with self-care packages, free lunch in the teachers’ lounge, and early release PD days.

“Leaders must either invest a reasonable amount of time attending [our people’s] fears and feelings, or squander an unreasonable amount of time trying to manage ineffective and unproductive behaviors.” –Brené Brown

If we really want to our schools, our teams, and our people to get better faster, we must shift our culture to one of courage. How? We have to create spaces where our people feel seen, heard, and valued, so they can feel safe enough to bravely take risks required for growth.

How do we create a culture of courage?

How do we help our people have the courage to take off their armor? To risk being seen without fear? How do we operationalize courage? After years of research, including interviewing 150 global C-level leaders on the future of leadership and analyzing 400,000 pieces of data, Brené Brown, research professor and four-time New York Times bestselling author, came to a critical conclusion: courage is teachable.

As a result of that finding, Brown designed an empirically based program around the four teachable, observable, and measurable skillsets of courage. Having a roadmap for creating courage means we have what we need to help people get rid of their armor so they are free to ask questions, try new things, and risk being wrong on the way to getting it right. In the world of education, where we like formulas and predictable inputs and outputs, this is revolutionary.

Can you imagine the effect this could have on our schools? How much quicker could we pivot if our teachers were curious, brave and willing to explore new possibilities rather than cling to the way it’s always been done? What academic heights would our students reach if we could take off the puffer armor so we could give and receive meaningful, honest feedback? What progress could we make if instead of running from difficult conversations, we committed to approaching them with courage and curiosity? How many more leaders might stay in positions of leadership instead of being burned out by politics? How might our children benefit from our lead?

If we want better outcomes for our children, we have to make courage a critical part of the conversation. The question is, “Are we daring enough to try?”

Aisha Crumbine is 20-year educator, who believes all children can learn and that one of the best ways to affect change in schools is to support the development of the adults. She is a Certified Dare to Lead™ Facilitator, who helps leaders develop courage-building skills through interactive workshops as well as speaking engagements. Interested in having Aisha facilitate the Dare to Lead™ curriculum to help your team begin creating a culture of courage, contact her here.